Full Speed Ahead
by Daughter of Lilith
Summary: One half of a mystery couple decides it's time for the next step and to take it, he lays out his cards and identity, but what off the other half?


_Author__: _Lilith  
_Disclaimer__:_ Not mine, which is perhaps a good thing. No material profit is made from this (but I do get a little emotional satisfaction out of it).  
_Pairing__:_ Same characters as in my other two stories _"In Private" & "Behind Closed Doors"_.  
_Rating__:_ T, I guess, because of references to adult themes.  
_Timeframe__:_ Somewhere in the sixth or seventh season  
_Summary:_ One half of our mystery couple makes his intentions and identity known, but what about the other half?  
_Reviews__:_ are always welcome and I'm curious to see whom you guys expect the woman to be :)

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Full speed ahead  


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"You know," she stilled mid-bite, he waited for her eyes to meet his before he continued, "I never thought I'd be here." With just a twinge of anxiety, he tried to spot a reaction in her face.

His companion smiled and continued chewing on her food. "These _are_ your quarters." Perhaps his meaning had eluded her? He considered the possibility for a second, then discarded it. She knew him too well. So why the joke? Was she trying to discourage him, perhaps because she could see where this conversation would head if he stepped through the door he'd just opened? Not likely either, she didn't play games like that.

"And yet you're here." If you can't beat them, join them. The anxiety he felt faded, mirth shining in her eyes. She liked it when he played these verbal games with her. Hell, he enjoyed them too. She played different from other women he'd known. Her jokes didn't bite and she never let them make light of serious or disturbing situations. He appreciated that, considering himself to be a serious man. Her smile widened. "That's not what I meant, though I do appreciate your presence."

She nodded. "I know."

Of course she did, it would be silly to expect otherwise. He sighed, this wasn't as difficult as he'd expected, but still he would rather take on a Romulan warbird or two. Her smile faded from her features, but not from her eyes. It put him at ease. "I received a communiqué from an old-", the appropriate word escaped him.

"Flame."

He nodded. "I suppose." He hadn't meant to bring the communiqué up at all. It had little to do with what he wanted to discuss. Her expression didn't change and showed nothing but genuine interest.

"What did she have to say?"

For a second it surprised him that she knew who this flame was, but then it occurred to him there hadn't been many women in his life since he'd met her. Though that was more of a coincidence than anything else. Yet his feelings for the woman at the opposite side of the table were exactly what had prompted this rather uncomfortable conversation. He put his utensils down and rubbed his scalp, stalling for a few seconds. "Not all that much." Like he remembered, this particular old flame spoke a lot, but said little, not that it took away from her appeal. "It was more of a proposition."

The smile returned, congratulatory this time. Frankly, it was the kind of "good going, man" grin he would've expected from one of his women chasing friends. It didn't suit her. "She fascinates you."

"She used to," he pointed out, perhaps a bit too strongly.

His companion shook her head. "Still does." Did that bother her, he wondered. He knew it didn't, that was part of the reason why their relationship - insofar it could be classified as such – worked so well. No expectations, no claims. After five years, it wouldn't be that strange if she started to feel a little territorial – he did. That was really the crux of the conversation, or at least he'd meant it to be. "What did you tell her?"

"Nothing yet."

"Perhaps you should accept her offer."

"What?"

Miss matchmaker slowly chewed on what remained of her food before answering. "It's been a while since you've been off the ship, it'll do you good. In more ways than one." She winked and he marveled at how easily she'd lightened the mood.

He feigned hurt. "I thought I was doing rather well in that department."

His lover laughed, mirth dancing in her eyes. "I certainly have no complaints." To emphasize her statement, her foot found his under the table. "A little variation never hurt anyone though."

"Speaking of variation, I liked your outfit last night." She blushed, just a little, and he couldn't help but grin triumphantly. Her foot climbed higher, effectively wiping the grin off his face.

"You don't want to go," she concluded aptly, still teasing him under the table.

"No."

Unexpectedly her expression changed, grew serious. She pulled her foot back. He wanted to, but couldn't break away from her eyes boring into his. "We're too old to play these games," he guffawed at that.

"Are we?"

"Jean-Luc." Hearing his name, he suddenly couldn't see the humor anymore either. He wondered what had sparked her sudden change of mood. Her body language changed. She was done playing games. "What did you _really_ mean to say?"

He sighed. Why did she have to know him so well? "A year, or maybe even six months ago I would have taken Vash up on her offer," he admitted, "she was and most likely still is exciting, different."

"Challenging."

"That too," he acknowledged. "I just felt no desire, no need to rehash old romances." She nodded and took a sip of her wine without taking her eyes off him, undoubtedly aware there was more to come. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Just to be sure she wasn't angry he looked for any sign of emotion in her eyes, but found only encouragement and acceptance. He would've preferred anger – to tell him she didn't want to hear his next words, or affection – to tell him that she did. Either was better than not knowing at all. All her eyes told him now was that she wasn't going to influence his words and thoughts in any way. He was on his own.

"I've been enjoying, well," he struggled internally for a neutral way of voicing his thoughts, but had to give up. Full speed ahead. "Well, you." She smiled at that. Hell, she was probably laughing herself silly over his awkward approach. He hadn't felt this awkward since kissing Nicole Santié when he was ten.

"That's good, I'd hate to think you put yourself through the last six years just for my pleasure."

"Oh, it wasn't just for your pleasure." Six years, merde. He knew, of course, but neither of them had ever said the passage of time aloud. "I have no intentions of altering our arrangement, but I enjoy your company, as I have enjoyed it for the last six years." She looked positively scared now, but he knew he couldn't stop, or these words would never be said at all. "I'm quite happy continuing this way, but received that message from Vash has made me realize I don't need anyone else in my private life."

He hoped she understood what he was trying to say. She satisfied him, provided a listening ear or sparring partner when he needed it. He could be himself around her; they could share comfortable silences and heated arguments. He'd fallen in love with her and that was enough for him. The core of their arrangement had always been freedom and though his feelings for her had grown, he had no desire to take that freedom away. He wasn't a jealous man by nature.

Her expression hadn't changed much. Wide eyes regarded him with shock and little else. Surprisingly enough, he was completely at ease. The ball was in her corner now.

"Oh."


End file.
